


Fallen Angels

by ValentineRevenge



Category: Black Veil Brides, Bleach, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Cutting, F/F, F/M, Fallen Angels, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-04 07:49:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValentineRevenge/pseuds/ValentineRevenge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard Way is the little voice in the back of Ashley Purdy's mind. What happens when his life becomes too much for him to take?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A total rewrite of the story for the most part. Gerard is the little voice in Ashley Purdy's head. What will happen when life becomes just a bit too much for the Outlaw? And is Gerard more than just an auditory hallucination?

**This is an updated version of the story, edited so that things make more sense, and that it flows better.**  
  
 **This is a Black Veil Brides crossover. So far, Gerard is the only one who shows up, but maybe if I take this further, then the rest of the guys are going to show up? I own pretty much nothing but the plotline...**  
  
  
  
"Can't go on like this..." Ashley muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. It'd been a month. A month since he could claim that his precious Andy belonged to him. Against his will, tears started to well up in his eyes. "Not again, dammit." Trying to think of happy memories only brought him further down. The happiest ones he had, ironically, were full of Andy.   
  
Then, like a dam breaking, the tears started, falling one by one. Within moments, they were a continuous stream, and his breaths were coming out in short, painful gasps. "Why did you leave?" he yelled, to no one in particular. The sound reverberated around the tiny bathroom. Then Gerard, the voice he'd been hearing in his head since a little Andy left, piped up. "You know exactly why."  
  
"I was fucking trying to stop!" Ashley screamed in response, shoving the hair out of his face, where it clung stubbornly to his cheeks with tears darkened by makeup. "We've been over this before." Gerard let out a sigh, like punctuation at the end of the sentence.   
  
"But I can't fucking fix it. He fucking said that he hates me..." Just saying it made it all too real. Ashley pulled his knees against his chest, rocking back and forth, shaking from the sobs.  
  
"So? You know that he's fucking bipolar at best."  
  
"He called me a crazy, obsessive stalker!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
There was silence for a minute, before Ashley continued, "You know Gerard, I can't go on like this."   
  
"What?" As much as a disembodied voice can be shocked, Gerard was apparently shocked into disbelief. "You heard me." Ashley retorted, getting up and walking out of the bathroom abruptly. Gerard was now starting to hope that things were going to get better.   
  
From the bathroom, the Outlaw walked into his bedroom, where, on his desk, there was a box made of seashells. Inside of it was every single song or poem that Andy had ever written for him. He yanked them out, letting them spill onto his desk haphazardly. Below it lay a razor, still brand new in the cardboard wrapper.   
  
"Ashley?" Gerard asked, unsure. He went ignored, as the deadly weapon was slipped into a pocket, and the young man walked out the door.  
  
"Just forget about it! What about that phrase that you're always saying? Never give in!" Gerard piped up, trying to offer advice like he always did.   
  
"Shut up Gerard."   
  
The few blocks between Ashley's house and Andy's house was quickly walked, Gerard pleading with him the whole way, to forget about it, to turn back. He even went as far as telling Ashley that he had left the oven on. Nothing worked, and the voice was ignored.   
  
Walking up the driveway to Andy's house, a rare smile crossed Ashley's features. He hadn't smiled in over a month. The movement felt unusual after so long, and he was more than willing to bet it looked more like a grimace than an actual smile.  
  
Instead of knocking on the front door, he circled around to the back of the house. He saw the door that he knew lead into Andy's room. His twisted grin unfaltering, he reached into his pocket, taking out his weapon. He ripped off the cardboard. His blood was pounding in his ears, and he could hear Gerard screaming in his head, "No! Don't do it! Drop it!"   
  
"It'll all be over soon." Ashley whispered. Inside the room, he could hear the sound of a television. No doubt that Andy was in there. He rolled up his sleeves. His left arm was littered with scars, from wrist to elbow. He choked back a sob, remembering one day how Andy had told him how much it broke his heart to see them. In fact, that was the only reason that he'd ever wanted to stop, knowing that if he kept doing it, he kept breaking Andy's heart.   
  
Shaking the thought, along with tears, away from his eyes, he lifted the blade over his arm. A silver flash, before the blinding pain. His right arm was slit along the vein, from the wrist, to the crook of his arm. He could feel it burning, and it took everything in him to keep from doubling up and falling to the floor, clutching the arm against him and screaming out in pain. Looking down, he could see the pure white flesh. Then, there was blood.  
  
It came in a sudden gush, hot and bright red, cascading down his arm in rivulets, some of it dripping onto his jeans and shoes. Nearly perfectly rounded drops stained the concrete. The unimaginable pain came every time he tried to move his fingers. "You can still turn back!" Gerard pleaded with him.  
  
"No, I can't." With that, Ashley stepped forward, knocking on the door with his left hand. Hearing someone move inside, coming towards the door, he grabbed the blade in his right hand, trying not to scream in pain. As the lock clicked in preparation for the door to open, he dug the blade into his left arm, mirroring the damage on his right. This time, it was even worse.   
  
The moment the cut was made, his fingers left the slick blade fall as the door opened. In the silence, the steel made a loud clink on the ground.   
  
"What the fuck do you want?" Andy snarled.   
  
"I'm sorry, Andy."  
  
"I don't fucking care, go take your cry for attention to someone else who actually gives a fuck." The taller of the two spat, before slamming the door shut. Or at least, he tried to. Ashley's foot was blocking the path of the door. "Move your foot before I break it."   
  
"It doesn't matter, I'm already dying."  
  
"What?"  
  
Ashley only lifted his arms, an apologetic smile twitching across his face. Then, the last of his strength left him, and he pitched forward.   
  
Andy had been staring in shock, but seeing the other man start to fall, he reacted in time to catch him before he hit the ground. Their eyes met for just a moment.   
  
"I still love you." Then, brown eyes slid closed, for the last time. Those were his final words to Andy, and the last he would ever say in the world of the living.   
  
"Come on, wake up." Andy muttered.  
  
There was no response.   
  
"Ashley?" Andy asked, shaking him slightly, worried. His head just rolled limply. "No...come on... wake up..." Andy said, shaking him vigorously. It was like shaking a rag doll. The other man wasn't breathing. It was then that Andy realized how much blood there was, covering them both. There was no way that Ashley could've survived.  
  
"NO!"  
  
He clung to Ashley's corpse, as if trying to restore him to life. "I'm fucking sorry." he whispered. The tears began to fall, taking Andy's mascara down with them. Andy fell to his knees, taking the corpse with him. He wiped a tear away from Ashley's cheek, leaving a thin train of blood. Holding back sobs, he held up his dead lover's face, and pressed a final kiss to his slowly cooling lips. His fingers left 3 semi-even streaks, on both sides of his face, running from his cheeks, down his neck. It'd be a sight that would haunt his every waking moment, and his dreams, too.   
  
His precious Ashley, dead, bloodless, streaks of his own blood on his face, and on Andy's hands.


	2. Chapter 2

Somewhere outside of this world as we know it, in another one that looks vaguely like it, yet vastly different, a man takes off his headset, and unusual thing that looked like headphones with a microphone jutting out the side, and a holographic display that sat right at eye level, just like a pair of glasses. He slammed it onto the desk in front of him, before running his hands through his unruly black hair.  
  
The man gets up, swearing under his breath, and walks out of the tiny cubicle. All there was in it was a small table, not more than 3 feet long by 2 feet wide and a very cushy armchair. He walks down several hallways, passing hundreds or maybe thousands of cubicles similar to the one he had just emerged from. Finally he came to a door leading to the outside balcony, and threw it open, stepping outside. He could see the entire city, hell, the entire district below him, so many dearly departed going about their afterlives. With another sigh, the man digs into his pockets, emerging with a battered up pack of cigarettes.   
  
"You always say you're going to stop that." A mans voice said.   
  
"Not a good time, Frank."  
  
"Gerard?"  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Gerard lit the cancer stick, taking a long drag off it, before saying with a puff of smoke, "I couldn't stop him, Frank. I tried, I tried everything, but he still did it!" At the end, he slammed his fist into the metal railing of the balcony in frustration.  
  
"Gerard, you're not the first to be unable to save someone. Hell, the way this is, where all you can do is see and hear and talk, there's nothing much that you can do. I mean, I heard that way back when there used to be a way to take control of these people's bodies, and stop them from doing whatever i was they're planning to do."   
  
"I wish we still had that." The elder of the two said bitterly.   
  
"I heard that they might be reimplementing it..." Frank said offhandedly, hoping he wasn't giving away too much. He liked his wings just where they were, thank you very much! He didn't want to have them torn off and be cast back onto earth even more useless than he was here.   
  
"Why the fuck did they get rid of it in the first place?"  
  
"Cause there were some sick ass fucks out there using it to their own personal gain." Frank said, stealing Gerard's cigarette and taking a drag off it himself.  
  
They were interrupted by the door opening and one of the messengers stepping out to join them. As technologically advanced as they were, they apparently haven't invented the P.A. system. That, or they didn't want to interrupt the other people who were assigned to the same task as Gerard every time it went off.  
  
"Gerard?" the messenger asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I heard about what happened, and I'm sorry. It wouldn't have happened if they still allowed some of the things they did a while back... But the director wants to see you in his office to talk to you about it..." She said, sounding almost regretful.  
  
"Fucker better not piss me off." Gerard muttered, flipping the remnants of his smoke over the side of the balcony. The girl allowed a faint smile to curl up one side of her mouth, before saying, "Alright, follow me."   
  
After following the messenger for quite some time through the outlandishly large building, Gerard found himself outside of the District Director's office. On the way, the two didn't speak. She knew that there was nothing that she could say to make him feel better, and he probably didn't want to hear it anyways. Outside the door, before she left him to carry on with her duties, she paused. Their eyes met, and a look of understanding passed between them.   
  
"You did everything that you could have." She said. Even so, Gerard didn't feel that way. But he wasn't about to say it. She disappeared around the corner, soft footsteps fading away near instantly. He stepped forward, placing one slender white hand on the doorknob in front of him.   
  
Taking a deep breath, Gerard entered the room. The far wall was entirely made of glass, providing a fantastic view of the city that glowed slightly orangey-red. As spacious as the room was, it was damn near empty. A pair of filing cabinets nested in the furthest corner from the door, and a coat rack with a single coat on it stood to the left of the door. Said coat had a very large, rather spoon shaped hood on it.   
  
The center of the room was dominated by a large desk, a glass and steel monstrosity. The top, too, was nearly entirely bare, with several folders in a neat stack in the corner being the only things on it, aside from the Director's feet, clad in very pointy boots, the toes curling in a way reminiscent of elf shoes.   
  
The Director's nose was buried deep in a manilla folder similar to the ones on the corner of his desk. After several tense moments, the folder was shut with a snap and unceremoniously tossed onto the desk with a plopping noise. Gerard was now face to face with one Nnoitra Jiruga, sans spoon hood. His heart was pounding out of his chest. The taller man opened his mouth, showing off his piano-like teeth, and asked, "What the hell happened Gerard?"   
  
Gerard's mouth opened and closed stupidly like a fish out of water. "For the record, I'm not pissed." Nnoitra said. "You're not?" Gerard asked. It came as a surprise to him, especially knowing the Director's short temper.   
  
"For now, no. I just fuckin wanna know what the fuckin fuck happened. The records they keep fuckin suck fuckin ass. I'm at the fuckin point of fuckin switching the fuckin messengers with the fuckin record keepers. At fuckin least they fuckin know fuckin when to fuckin write something the fuck down.  
  
"W-what did it say?" Gerard asked, finally finding his voice.   
  
"Pretty fuckin vague just "failure to protect". Fuckin failure my fuckin ass! Fuckin bureaucratic ass shit! They should fuckin know that there's fuckin only so fuckin much that a fuckin disembodied voice can fuckin do to fuckin stop someone fuckin hellbent on fuckin doing something." Nnoitra said. Luckily for Gerard, it seemed like Nnoitra's rage was directed more at the record keepers and the people who prevented the shorter man from doing more, than the person standing in front of him.  
  
"But I did all I could! I said don't do it, tried talking him out of it, said it'd get better... I did everything!" Gerard raged.   
  
Nnoitra winced. Normally, he was the one doing the raging, while the other person was cringing, not the other way around. "Listen Gerard, it's fuckin fine, I'll fuckin deal with all the fuckin paperwork, you just fuckin take some fuckin time off."   
  
The shorter of the two walked out, not needing to be told twice. Meanwhile, Nnoitra yelled, "Tes-LA! Get me some fuckin coffee! I need my fuckin caffeine fix!"   
  
His poor secretary, Tesla, scuttled off to get a pot of the steaming liquid, before the Director decided to go looking for the coffee himself, and cause more of a problem around the area.


End file.
